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by so_damn_Mishalicious



Series: Shiptober 2019 [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_damn_Mishalicious/pseuds/so_damn_Mishalicious
Summary: Holmes needs his rest, Watson makes sure to provide





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**Author's Note:**

> This is referring to the RDJ and JL movies :) as I ship those guys very hard.
> 
> Warning: English is not my native language, not beta read, I suck at descriptions
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing as always
> 
> Kudos, comments and such are highly appreciated ♡

The soft glow of fire in the fireplace gave the room a warm orange hue. It was pleasantly warm inside, a sharp contrast to the storm raging outside, with thick droplets hitting the window and strong winds clawing at everything they could reach. They were safe in here, in their home.

Watson sat on the couch, a book in one of his hands. His eyes flitted over the printed lines, taking in their content before turning the page. Gladstone lay to his left, closely nestled to the side of his leg, emanating a pleasant warmth. On his right, Holmes had made himself comfortable, wrapped in a blanket, his head on the doctor's lap and his legs pulled against his body. He slept soundly, exhausted from their latest case, which had pushed him to his physical and mental limits as so often. Watson knew that his friend needed this rest, the peace in his troubled mind to be able to mend himself again.

Since Moriarty and the Reichenbach Falls, as well as his spectacular return from the dead, the Doctor couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Holmes was more vulnerable than ever before. Maybe it had to do with the loss of Irene Adler - he knew what feelings his friend had harboured for her, his broken heart driving him mad even faster. Or perhaps the inner inhibition threshold of his friend was gone, ready to wear himself out for the thrill of adventure just to feel alive again. Whatever it was, it worried him deeply. But he also knew that Holmes would be too proud, too stubborn to accept help he hadn't asked for himself. Which he didn't normally do. Sighing he closed the book, careful not to wake the other. His attention in the reading material was long gone anyway.

Using the rare chance to study his friends features in peace, he took in what was not hidden by the blanket. His locks were in their normal disarray, reflecting the soft sheen of light, making them appear darker as the Doctor knew they were. A light stubble had formed on Holmes cheeks again, not long enough to bother him into shaving yet prominently present. Maybe he could usher his friend to get a trim, maybe he was offering to do so himself. There was enough time to consider their options later. Deep lines had settled in the distinct features of the detective's face, though they were lessened by the relaxed expression he wore in his sleep. Holmes looked younger this way, nearly innocent as if he hadn't been immersed in the ugly darkness that crippled this world. 

Watson knew better than to give into the temptation of touching the man on his lap, his sleep had never been deep and he didn't want to startle him from his rest, expecting an attack. But a frown crossed the other's face, like a shadow disturbing the peace of his dreams and he wished to ease this ailment at least a bit. Very carefully not to disturb the sleeping man, he gently ran his fingers through his hair, caressed it, exerting only a feather-light pressure on the scalp to give him relief from whatever haunted him. A soft moan tore from Holmes lips, though he did not seem to wake and Watson continued in his ministrations. Petting the locks in such genuine manner, he had to think of Mary.

He missed her dearly, every day that passed but he couldn't bring himself to stop wanting this. The adventures, the adrenaline in his veins, the feeling of Holmes at his side, another crime they solved and innocents they protected. Watson was a soldier, a warrior that left the battle field but never really did, his inner turmoil urging him on to find… something. After years of neglecting what he felt and trying to turn around and leave he had to admit he couldn't. He didn't want to. This was his life, his home, his nature. Though he loathed it sometimes he wouldn't dare to risk it again.

To his surprise Mary had understood, being saddened by his decision but they had agreed together that it was for the best to separate. She was a great woman, beautiful, cunning and he wished only the best for her life, he was sure she'd find happiness again soon. Like he had after all.

Deeply lost in thought, his hand keeping up the caresses, time flew by. As he came from his stupor and checked the clock he noticed they were already late for dinner. The doctor didn't feel hungry at all but he tried to keep up a routine to keep Holmes' chaotic eating habits in check. As quietly as possible he tried to retract his hand and slide free from below the other, but a firm grasp on his wrist stopped his movements. Deep brown eyes focused on his gaze, still drowsy from sleep but clear enough to know what was happening. The grip itself was firm, but not painful, just enough to keep him from going further. Holmes face was calm as he studied his companion, before speaking up. "Don't leave."

Pressing out the breath he didn't register he was holding, the soldier tried to negotiate. "Holmes it's about dinner time, we should-"

"Please."

One words alone was enough to silence him, the way it was said full of emotion and vulnerability. "Don't leave me… stay with me."

Watson knew he was fighting a battle that could not be won and with a low grumble, his resolve cracked. He settled back down. "Fine but we'll eat later."

A short nod was the only answer he received before those all-seeing eyes closed again. It took a few minutes before Holmes breathing evened out, he was asleep again. Though they did not fight a strange feeling lingered in his mind, his heart aching at fear the other openly displayed in his eyea at the notion of him getting up. Leaving again, maybe once and for all this time. But he would not, would never more.

Leaning forward to pick up his abandoned book from before he came closer to his sleeping mate, his warm scent lingering in the air. It smelt like home. Out of his mind he crossed the remaining distance and pressed a little kiss to the detective's temple, accompanied by a soft whispered promise. "I'll always stay with you."

Sitting back up he returned to reading, though he became aware that vacating endless hours on their old couch was definitely not healthy for his posture as first aches already rose up from his spine. His back would certainly kill him in the morning. It would be worth it though.


End file.
